Svalinn
by fayegrove
Summary: An elven bride from the realm of Alfheim has been procured for the newly crowned King of Asgard. Though she has accepted her fate and hopes to find acceptance in her new marriage, how can she win over a stranger who deems himself a monster? AU.
1. Part One

_A/N: So I took a brief break from writing Into the Darkness to write this one-shot that I'd had rolling around in my head for a while. This was one of those moments where, as the writer, I know exactly how I want it to end…Until I reach that point and the tone changes entirely. I think I prefer this way, oddly enough._

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The sun rose that day as it did any other morning, and Svalinn watched the golden glow from her window with a desolate heart. She had slept little that night and knew that she would be rebuked for the darkness that had likely formed under her eyes, but there was no helping her tiredness. All night long she had tossed and turned in the grandiose bed that had been assigned as her temporary quarters before the wedding was to take place. Sleep should have been easy in the midst of such luxury but the only thing she could think of was that the stranger she was to marry was somewhere within the same walls, and today she would become his wife.

At the thought of her impending marriage fear gripped Svalinn's heart and she sat on the window ledge, as close to the glass as she could reach in desperation for the warmth of the faint sunlight on her skin. Having arrived late the night before she had not been allowed to meet the King, and all she knew of him were the stories that others had confided to her. Many, no doubt fearing his retribution, gushed over his prowess as King. Others, mostly the women servants in her employ whom had long since become her trusted confidants, whispered of his infamy and brutality. A few admitted that despite the darkness in him, the King still managed to come across as alluring.

Svalinn cared nothing for what his appearance might be. As a child she had often seen the women in Alfheim treated cruelly by the men in their lives and, much to her mother's amusement, had sworn that she would never marry.

"You are going to be a beautiful woman, Svalinn," her mother had said dispassionately as she examined her reflection in a mirror. "More importantly you are the daughter of Freyr, ruler of the Light Elves. When the time comes you will marry, and you will do everything that your husband requires of you."

And that had been the end of it. Her mother had been unable to conceive more children after Svalinn's birth which, instead of endearing her daughter to her, produced a rift of corrosive bitterness towards Svalinn. Freyr had sired many bastards after his wife could not give him another, and Svalinn had learned yet another life lesson: her value lay in giving heirs to her husband. Without children, she too would be shelved.

A gentle knock rapped on the wooden door to her chambers, startling Svalinn out of her forlorn musings. "Come in," she spoke with a calmness that did not quite reach under her skin. In walked her three serving women carrying a mixture of clothing, beautifying products, and a mug of hot tea.

"My lady," they all murmured in the usual mark of respect but then, all sense of propriety lost, the door was closed and they were rushing anxiously towards her.

"Princess," Petra cried out in anguish as she ran towards Svalinn, setting down the mug of steaming liquid on the windowsill before cupping under her chin and turning her head first left and then right so as to better see her face. "Did you not sleep at all?"

"No," Svalinn admitted, heartened more than she could possibly have confessed to have her beloved maids near to help keep the dark thoughts away. "I couldn't turn off my mind."

Petra tutted as the other two women began to organize the items she was to wear for her first day in Asgard, made for her by command of the Queen herself. Svalinn watched with heavy eyes as they moved about the room. She wasn't entirely convinced that she could find the strength to don her mask of courtly conduct so soon after uprooting herself from her home and all that she knew. Svalinn knew a pang of sadness when she remembered that, once the wedding was over, even these three, loyal women would be returning to Alfheim with her parents.

"We saw him, mistress," Birgit called over from where she sat organizing the various products for Svalinn's bathing. "King Loki."

Svalinn's heart leapt into her throat and she clutched at the loose fabric of her nightgown, forcing down the anxiety that arose at the thought of her unknown husband. "When was this?"

"Just a few minutes ago," Mathilde chimed in as she hung Svalinn's new lavender gown against the wall leading to the bathing room and then coming to sit alongside her mistress. "We were heading down to the kitchens to fetch you some tea and got a bit lost, ended up at the entrance to the throne room. He was standing near the throne, talking with some of the guards.

"Is he… What is he like?" Svalinn whispered desperately as she instinctively lifted the mug of tea into her chilly hands, finding a small comfort in the heat that seeped into her flesh.

"Well, he is very tall," Birgit encouraged as she sat on the edge of the bed. Svalinn knew that with any other noble these women would never have dared to display such brazen familiarity, but all three of the women before her had long been more motherly towards her than Gerðr herself ever had been. Gathered around her with bracing words of comfort and concern in their eyes, she loved them more dearly than she could recall ever loving anyone else. "And he has long, black hair past his shoulders."

"He was turned to the side so we could only really see his profile," Mathilde admitted. She was the youngest of the three women, no more than ten years older than Svalinn herself, and had always felt more a sister to her than mother. They both shared the same, white blonde hair that was common amongst the Light Elves and a similar shade of violet eyes, though Mathilde's overall appearance was much darker than Svalinn's. "But he did appear to be quite handsome," she confessed with a smirk that brought a tiny giggle to Svalinn's lips.

"Come on dear, let's get you in the bath," Petra called as she began to bustle them all towards the bathing room. Svalinn acquiesced, following them through the doorway leading off of her bedchamber and lifting her arms so that they might disrobe her. At a young age, perhaps ten or so, she had fought to be allowed to change her own clothing and bathe herself but her mother, Gerðr, had refused to hear of it.

"You are a Princess, Svalinn. You have no need to do such mundane things for yourself. Allow the servants to do them for you, as you shall be Queen one day and that will be your right."

So she had relented and allowed her maids take charge of her needs which, whether or not the dependence bothered Svalinn, seemed to give them joy to be able to care for her. Her mother had always insisted upon the fact that Svalinn would one day become Queen, even though there had been no official betrothal until Svalinn's sixteenth birthday. Representatives of the newly-crowned King Loki in the realm of Asgard had come to interview Svalinn and her family, and have photographs taken of all of them. Svalinn hadn't understood why the King would care about pictures of her relatives until Petra finally enlightened her: "They want to see what the genetics in your family are like, Princess. So that they will have a better of idea of what the King's and your children might turn out like."

"Oh," was all a blushing Svalinn could think to say. She'd not put much thought into _that_ particular part of marriage, and was mortified to realize that the Asgardian delegates had been solely thinking along those lines for the entirety of their visit. Within a month they had gotten the formal proposal of marriage from King Loki, and Freyr and Gerðr had signed the document on Svalinn's behalf; being sixteen her own signature was meaningless, as was her opinion.

Now, at eighteen, the time had come for Svalinn to leave Alfheim and journey to the realm of Asgard so that she might marry this new King who was still a stranger to her. Svalinn's parents had not thought to request a portrait of the King for her so that she might have an idea of what her new husband looked like, and doubted if they would have complied should she have even asked. "He is the King of Asgard and that is what matters," her mother would have said. So her maids had packed all of the belongings that she would be allowed to keep—which did not consist of many, as her wardrobe would be completely resupplied upon her acclimation—and journeyed with her parents to the new, foreign realm.

And oh, how different Asgard was from Alfheim. Her homeland was ornamented with natural beauty; her beloved trees and lakes and mountains as far as the eye could see. Asgard was as different from her world as night was from day. The rainbow bridge did cross a massive ocean, but the entire realm seemed to be made of stone and metal, with little in the way of nature to its name. Svalinn had mourned this upon their arrival the previous night but had kept her face locked in a polite smile as the delegates of the King led her small retinue towards the castle of Valhalla. Not until she had been shown to her rooms and the door was shut firmly behind her had Svalinn given in to the need to weep, homesickness and fear for her future eventually exhausting her so that she could not sleep, no matter how desperate she for rest she became.

"The bath is ready, Princess," Birgit said, snapping Svalinn back to the present. Naked, she lowered herself into the basin and closed her eyes as the three women poured oils into the bath water. Aromas of home filled the air and a single tear escaped her eye, sliding unnoticed by any of them down her damp cheek. They scrubbed her skin clean and then began the more lengthy process of cleansing Svalinn's hair. Her father had refused to ever let it be more than trimmed to maintain healthiness, and as such it had grown to her hips in long, thick waves. Freyr always reminded his daughter that she was the exact image of his sister, the goddess Freyja, and there was such tenderness in his voice as he made the comparison that Svalinn could never bring herself to refuse him his wish.

The women diligently cleansed her hair with a special soap from Alfheim that had a unique way of leaving her hair soft, followed up with a fragrant oil that left it smooth. Svalinn was particularly fond of this scent as it reminded her of flowers in springtime, her favorite season. She wondered sadly if Asgard had seasons at all.

When they had finished bathing her, Svalinn stood up and they wrapped a towel around her to spare her modesty. She made her way over to the bench which faced a long, ornate mirror on the wall and watched herself as the women bustled about, Petra tasking herself with applying lotion to her skin, Birgit combing through the length of her hair, and Mathilde going into the bedchamber to fetch the underthings for her gown. Svalinn only vaguely noticed their beautification of her as she took in her own appearance in the mirror, startled by the change wrought in her from the last time she had bothered to look.

Not being as vain as her mother, Svalinn rarely paid attention to her reflection in mirrors. She trusted her maids to create the beauty as required by court, but did not care what that transformation might entail. Now, as she gazed at herself in the glass, she tried to take in her appearance through the eyes of a stranger; through the eyes of her waiting betrothed. Womanhood was still new on Svalinn, having been rather a late bloomer and not having her first bleeding until her fifteenth year. She was taller than most girls her age and her curves, though present, were not as pronounced as many of the more voluptuous women she had seen in tight-fitting gowns. Gerðr often scolded Svalinn's hips, claiming that they were ill-suited for bearing children. This had distressed Svalinn to the point where Petra had taken her hand one night and linked their fingers together. "Don't worry yourself with what your mother says, Princess. The King still chose to marry you, full-figured or not. He must not care about the size of your hips."

Petra's words had helped to comfort her, but not done much to alleviate the burgeoning sense of self-doubt that had arisen in the two years since her betrothal. Gerðr made it quite clear that if she did not bear at least one son, she would be shamed and sent back to Alfheim where she would live her life as a spinster, "and do you really want that to happen, daughter?" Gerðr had instructed Svalinn's maids to keep track of her monthly bleedings to make sure everything was normal, and they had confessed this to Svalinn with embarrassment so extreme that she had shushed them with comforting words to sooth their anxieties.

"It's alright. Do as you must to please my mother, even if it means bringing her my soiled sheets."

Petra motioned for Svalinn to stand up and she complied, removing the towel so that the lotion might be applied all over her body, and took the opportunity to scrutinize her frame as a man might. Her breasts were not small, but neither were they particularly large, and her shape was not the voluptuous hour glass shape that her mother possessed. Svalinn's waist was not as tiny as she'd have hoped, and her hips were only just wide enough to give a proportioned appearance but, without the minute waist to accentuate them, were unimpressive. Her skin was so pale it might have been translucent and the blonde hair framing her form was so blonde as to be nearly white, with only the faintest hint of gold when the sunlight struck it. The only feature that Svalinn felt any true pride in was her eye color: the pale violet her father said she had also inherited from her aunt Freyja.

Would a man find her desirable when she stood naked before him as she did now in front of this mirror? Could her new husband find himself wanting of her, or would she be but another task he must complete solely for the good of his kingdom? Svalinn had been kept sequestered from the company of most men her entire life and could only gather what little knowledge she had of them from the whispering of her various ladies-in-waiting. She knew the mechanics of intercourse and had a grasp of some of the basic acts involved, but mostly she knew that whatever happened behind closed doors between a man and a woman often reduced her ladies to heaps of blushes and giggles. _There is not much information to be gleamed from silliness_, Svalinn had always thought sadly to herself when they did this. She wondered how she could please a husband when no one ever told her the specifics of _how_ she was to do so.

"I can't get over how tall you have become!" Mathilde exclaimed when she'd returned with the chemise she was to wear underneath her gown. "You might be able to kiss your husband without him having to bend over very far to reach you," she added rather wickedly, and Svalinn managed to give her a small smile in response. In truth, she was fighting the urge to vomit.

They led her out of the bathroom and into the bedchamber once more, where they then pulled the chemise over her head and removed the lavender gown from its hanger. They gently tugged the fabric over her arms and head until she was standing before them in a dress far more luxurious than any she was used to. All three of her ladies exclaimed in bliss, with Petra even clapping her hands together in pleasure. Svalinn turned to face the golden-framed mirror that hung against the wall opposite the bed and allowed her eyes to soak in the foreignness of her appearance.

Back in Alfheim she had only ever worn simple dresses that were built more for comfort than for elegance. Only on occasion did an event happen that required her to don a gown more suitable for her status, yet even those could not hold a candle to the garment she now wore. The material was of the softest, finest satin and it clung to her torso but fell loosely around her hips where the hemline finally ended perfectly at the floor, just above her feet. The satin was almost the exact same shade of lavender as her eyes, and the stitching along the seams was comprised of shimmery, golden thread. Svalinn's eyes locked on the neckline, which was far lower than any she was accustomed to wearing and revealed a fair amount of cleavage; perhaps most startling was the realization that she had any worth showing. The Asgardian delegates had arrived in Alfheim two weeks prior to their journey and taken thorough measurements, and this dress marked the skill with which the finery in this realm was crafted.

"Oh, Svalinn," Petra sighed as the women converged on her again to arrange the dress so that it settled just right on her frame. "You truly do look a Princess now."

"Should she wear her jewels?" Birgit asked the others, pulling a velvet box out of one of the few containers she had been allowed to bring with her.

"No." Mathilde's voice was firm as her eyes ran up and down Svalinn, who stood rather awkwardly in a dress that, for all of its softness against her skin, was far more form-fitting than anything else she had ever worn. "There will be time for jewels when she is Queen. Let the world see her with nothing but her own beauty as adornment."

Exceedingly grateful to Mathilde, Svalinn slid her feet into the gold flats that had been sent up with the gown as the women fussed with her hair, which had since air-dried and now fell loosely around her shoulders. They wondered for a few minutes whether or not they should do an elegant up-do but Mathilde stomped on that idea, too. "Let the King see Svalinn as she is."

They then exited her bedchamber and began the descent to the royal dining hall. Familiarity with the maids was left behind in the safety of her temporary rooms, and per her station she walked ahead of them by a few good feet down the marble stairs and found two guards waiting at the landing for her. "This way, Princess," one of them said as they turned and led the way through the various hallways. Svalinn focused on her breathing to try and still the wings that had sprouted within her belly, glancing back occasionally at the three women who smiled at her with encouragement whenever she did so. Mathilde winked at her, which bolstered Svalinn's courage and she faced forwards again, head held slightly higher as she followed the guards into the dining hall.

The room was mind bogglingly huge, with three long tables all facing a smaller one on a raised dais at the end of the cavernous room. Already seated at the elevated table were two unfamiliar figures, though Svalinn knew exactly who they were. Her maids and the guards had bowed themselves away at the door and left, leaving her to approach the table alone and struggling to maintain composure as two sets of eyes watched her as she came nearer. Once she reached the few steps leading up towards the table, she curtsied deeply and then clasped her hands together in front of her stomach, eyes downcast as she waited for permission to join. Svalinn burned with curiosity to finally gaze upon her betrothed, and felt a flush creep into her cheeks as she became aware that he was likely using the opportunity with her eyes averted to study her unguardedly.

"Come, join us, dear," the Queen finally said when the King had let the silence spiral. Grateful to her, Svalinn seated herself at the seat the Queen had motioned to and, unable to resist, glanced over at where the King sat.

Her initial, unexpected response was a flush of pleasure: the whispering maids and her beloved servants had all been right in saying that he was a handsome man. His long, black hair fell past his shoulders and framed an angular face, with a shapely jaw and startlingly blue eyes that she found herself lost in as she gazed into them. Svalinn's second response was a combination of unease and fear at the expression that took on his face as studied her features with undisguised greed, and something horribly like scorn.

"Welcome to Asgard, Svalinn," the Queen said amiably as she offered her a silver tray filled with delicate, fruit-filled pastries. "I trust you had a pleasant night's sleep?"

"Oh yes, thank you very much, Your Majesty," Svalinn replied automatically as she accepted one of the flaky buns. She heard a scoff from the King and turned her eyes towards him, surprised to find him grinning maliciously at her.

"She lies, Mother. Do you not see those dark circles under her elven eyes? Perhaps my new bride does not enjoy her new home."

Svalinn flushed and the Queen said nothing, but she noticed her give the King a chastising look before taking a pastry for herself.

"Asgard is beautiful, Your Majesty," Svalinn protested weakly. "I confess that I am homesick, but nothing more."

"Homesick for your beloved Alfheim that is so full of frolicking in fields; however will you come to adjust to life amongst such barbarians as us Asgardians, I wonder?"

"Loki," the Queen chastised as Svalinn's face burned red with humiliation. Her hopes for a kind, considerate husband were quickly draining away and she felt increasingly isolated when her betrothed did not apologize for the cruel jest. In fact the King said nothing further as he busied himself with his plate of sausage links and eggs, but Svalinn could only take tiny bites of the pastry in her hand, her appetite replaced by nausea. Occasionally she would gather enough nerve to half-glance at the King but he was ignoring her as effortlessly as one might a piece of furniture.

_What have I done to offend him so?_ Svalinn wondered with a sinking feeling as the silence was broken only by the sounds of chewing and clinking china._ Is he repulsed by me? _She was surprised by how much that thought saddened her. Finally the Queen broke the silence once more, her voice carefully light.

"Tell me, Svalinn, how fare your parents? I have not seen them since your arrival last night."

Freyr and Gerðr had indeed arrived with her the night before, but had immediately left her once she had been shown to her own rooms had not been seen by her since. No doubt they were too busy gloating in the union of the two realms to care much about how their daughter was adjusting without them in this strange new place. "They are very well, thank you."

"Have you tried on your wedding gown yet?"

An iron fist hit Svalinn in the gut at the Queen's words, and she stared fixedly down at the pastry in her hands. "I'm afraid I have not," she said carefully. "I'm sure it is beautiful, though. This dress is lovely, I am exceedingly grateful for all of the new clothing you have supplied me."

"Such a liar," Loki interrupted, smiling icily at Svalinn. "Can't you see how unhappy she is here, Mother? Perhaps we should send her back to her own realm so she might find some farmer who would have her."

"Loki," the Queen hissed as Svalinn set down the pastry and clenched her hands in her lap, fighting back tears and only just managing to keep her expression placid. "This girl is going to be your bride, have you nothing kind to say to her?"

"And what would you have me say to her, Mother? That she is welcome here? That she is beautiful and we shall be as happy together as you and Father were? I'd not fill hear head with such falsities as that."

A tear slid down Svalinn's cheek but by sheer force of will she kept herself from weeping. Within her a wall of defense went up and she imagined herself back home in her favorite field just outside the castle where she lived, lying down amongst the yellow sunflowers that hid her from view and smelled so welcomingly of springtime. She willed herself to believe she was there, hidden from sight and anywhere other than where she truly was.

"Loki!" The Queen exclaimed, appalled, and Svalinn heard the sound of his chair scraping the ground as he leapt to his feet.

"I have business to attend to," he said with a severe indifference. He dipped his head towards the Queen and then turned to face Svalinn, who found herself unable to resist meeting his stare. "I will see you at our wedding tonight, Princess of Alfheim. Please do see to it that you shave your legs beforehand as I cannot stomach fucking a hairy woman." He then turned and stormed out of the hall.

When he'd left the Queen rose and moved to kneel next to Svalinn, whose eyes remained fastened on the folded hands in her lap. She could not bring herself to move even an inch because if she did the desire to cry would overpower her dignity and she could not do that, especially not in front of the Queen. A few tears landed on her hands as the Queen gripped them in one hand and tilted Svalinn's face up with the other so that she had no choice but to meet her gaze. "I am so sorry for how my son has treated you, Svalinn. He had as little choice in the matter of this marriage as you did and he does not like having no control."

"But he's the King," she whispered, what little of her voice that was distinguishable wavering with emotion. "He can do as he pleases, so why marry me if he hates me so?"

"He doesn't hate you," the Queen explained gently. "Since my husband died and Thor was killed in battle, the realm has been in a state of panic and despair. Loki's personality has not endeared him to the public and they are certainly not thrilled that he is now their King. The only way to keep peace is to marry one of the Valmir from another realm as a symbol of unity, and you were the most suitable candidate. Even Kings have no choice in matters such as this when it comes to the security of their kingdom."

The Queens words rang with truth and managed to quiet Svalinn in a way that mere words of comfort could not have, and soon the tears had dried up in her eyes. She lifted her chin and managed a smile for the Queen, who returned it in earnest and squeezed her hand. "Come, daughter. Let's get you ready for your wedding."


	2. Part Two

A hush had fallen over the room.

Svalinn had been fully dressed in her wedding gown where she stood on a platform in the center of a room dedicated to the creation of royal wardrobes. The seamstresses had bustled around her as they made sure the dress fit her frame correctly before stepping down to join the small crowd of onlookers, which included the Queen and her parents. Their gazes were all upon her but she could not rip her eyes away from the wall that was made entirely of reflective glass, uncomprehending what she saw there.

There was no way that young woman standing so rigidly on that dais could be herself. The gown was exquisite, made of the finest silk and with a train fanning out behind her for a good twenty feet. Her breasts were squeezed in tightly to give her cleavage the appearance of more volume but, thankfully, the dress did not constrict her rib cage which meant she could breathe easily. Instead the material was designed to fall away from just under her bust line and float around her with every step she took. There was a simplicity to the gown that surprised her, though not unpleasantly so. The seamstresses had not bedecked the material with jewels or lace or anything frilly, instead allowing the luxurious material to enhance Svalinn's own shape and natural, elven grace. Or at least, that is what the others were gushing all around her. Gerðr was the only one who seemed to find anything to complain about. Svalinn could hear her huffing to her husband about how plain the gown looked, but she ignored her mother resolutely as the seamstresses helped her out of the dress again once her father had left the room.

Upon leaving the room Svalinn realized that all at once Valhalla had become abuzz with activity with everyone rushing about to finish preparations for the wedding. Mathilde had informed her that the castle had been undergoing a transformation for over two weeks by that point, and Svalinn had to admit as she followed them back up to the privacy of her bedchamber for her final preparations that she was honored by all that had been done in anticipation of her nuptials. When the door shut behind them and only her maids were with her, she attempted to appear as normal as possible but they kept asking her what had happened to dampen her mood so. Finally she broke down and confessed the King's harsh words, sitting on the bed to keep from falling over her trembling knees.

"Oh sweetheart," Petra consoled as she sat beside her, the other two women gathering in close around them. "Don't let him upset you like this. The Queen was right, he's angry that he's been forced into a marriage is all. He'll come around."

"But how can you know?" Svalinn whispered. "The way he stared at me with that horrible smile, like he was mocking me…what if I repulse him?"

To her enormous surprise, all three women laughed. Svalinn looked from once face to the next, hurt, until Mathilde finally spoke with her usual, devious grin. "Oh honey, that was not a grin that mocked your appearance. Believe me when I say if a man smiles at you in that way it's because he likes what he sees."

"Then—then why would he speak to me so cruelly if I please him?"

"He is still a man, Princess, and a man like King Loki is bound to be proud. I will not lie and say that your marriage is going to be easy, but it would take a man with no soul to not have his heart warmed by you over time. Now, as for his command that you shave, that is something we can help you with."

They spent the next twenty minutes showing Svalinn the proper method of applying a thick gel onto her legs and delicately running a razor along the length of her skin. With each stroke foam and flecks of blonde hair were then rinsed out into the small pool of water in the tub and she repeated until finally she found her legs to be smooth to the touch. Svalinn enjoyed the sensation immensely and ran her hands up and down her skin after she had finished, struck by how soft her legs were. When her maids noticed her doing this they smirked at each other, stirring Svalinn's curiosity. "What is it?" she asked them.

"That is exactly why he wanted you clean-shaven," Birgit smiled at her. Svalinn glanced down and realized she had been in the middle of running her hands over her thighs; immediately she withdrew them, blushing and wondering if that is what the King planned on doing to her come the end of the evening; she prayed she could look him in the eyes the rest of the night.

"The wedding starts in an hour, Princess. Let's go get you dressed and ready."

Chaos reigned as Svalinn entered the room with the wedding gown on display and a group of people immediately converged on the new bride. One woman set about doing what she could with Svalinn's fingernails, huffing impatiently due to the fact that, in her anxiety, she often chewed them without realizing. Two women were tasked with Svalinn's hair but, to her delight, they were so pleased with the striking appearance of the long waves by themselves that the only thing they did was pin half of it up in a clip so that the under half still fell all around her shoulders. When a woman moved to apply rouge and lip stain the Queen waved her away.

"The Princess will not be painted. Let her have innocence as her beauty on her wedding day."

The woman bowed away so that the seamstresses could help Svalinn undress into just her chemise and then gently helped her into the wedding gown. There was a general intake of breath and when Svalinn gazed at herself in the mirror she could see why. The girl who stared back at her was not merely Svalinn the Princess, but the young woman who would soon be crowned Queen of Asgard. The simple, though exquisitely crafted, gown marked her as the highest of nobility, and due to each of these aspects, she commanded the reverence of all in the room. She felt exceedingly lonesome upon the realization.

"Lovely," the Queen murmured finally, smiling. "My son will be quite taken by you, Princess."

Not daring to believe the Queen's words to be true lest she just be disappointed, Svalinn accepted the Queen's offered hand and was led out of the dressing room and into the atrium that opened into the throne room. Her maids carried her train so as not to let it touch the floor until she was walking down the aisle and, once at the door, the Queen pecked her lightly on the cheek. "The next time we speak you will be my daughter. Good luck, Svalinn." The Queen squeezed her hands and then was strolling into the throne room, head held high.

Svalinn looked up at her father, who had just joined them to escort her down the aisle, fear causing her whole body to shiver. He smiled and offered his arm, which she accepted with trembling hands. Not a second seemed to have passed before they were walking down the open aisle in the throne room, hundreds of eyes fastened upon Svalinn who, for her part, stared fixedly up where the King and another, black-robed man stood at the top of the steps. She wished desperately that she could find some sort of reassurance from her husband-to-be but was saddened to find that his expression as he watched her approach was impassive. He accepted her hand from Freyr without so much as a smile and Svalinn shuddered at his touch; his hands were chilled slightly and much, much larger than her own; her fingers seemed to vanish completely in his grasp.

The ceremony was a blur of time for Svalinn. She heard nothing the officiator said and only when she noticed the silence and felt the King squeezing her hand painfully did she realize that everyone was waiting for her to accept her marriage vows. "I will," she spoke with as much courage as she could muster, though she doubted anyone but the King could have heard the raspy sounds that escaped her throat.

"Then I declare you both wed."

There was an eruption of cheers in the throne room and time sped up in a mad dash, setting Svalinn's stomach to churning with nerves as her new husband turned to face her. Despite her height, he was still a head taller than she was and had to lower his head to reach her lips. She closed her eyes at the awareness of this, her first kiss from a man she barely knew taking place front of hundreds of people who were now her subjects. His lips were warm but forceful, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth in a way that both bewildered her and sent an unfamiliar churning in the pit of her stomach. Then the moment was gone and his face was directly in front of hers, the blue eyes staring into hers radiating so much power that Svalinn had to fight the urge to back away from his presence.

Loki accepted the proffered crown from the officiator and placed it lightly upon Svalinn's head. The weight of it startled her and she found she had to hold her neck a certain way just to keep her head from wobbling. The crowd rang out in bouts of "The Queen!" and, her arm now looped nervously around her husband's elbow, together they walked through the cheering crowd and into the royal dining hall where the customary feast was about to begin.

* * *

Svalinn found the celebration much more enjoyable that the wedding itself, at first. She was sitting directly next to her husband, their elbows sometimes brushing the other's as they cut into their food. Even those small touches lit a fire of these new feelings within Svalinn who, as time progressed and the end of the night came closer, found herself antsy and jumping at the smallest of provocations. At one point a group of men could be heard singing at the table farthest on the right of the hall. Everyone quieted a bit to listen as the remainder of the words carried across the room.

"… now married to our mighty King Loki, the Princess of Alfheim best be no wimp, for surely after he's broken her in, she will be walking around with a limp!"

Svalinn's face burned but everyone else in the hall erupted into laughter at the bawdy lyrics. To her horror, even Loki himself was laughing and clapped along with the others as the men at the table stood and saluted them with their steins of beer, bowing with drunken exaggeration before resuming their seats. Svalinn noticed that to her left the Queen had stiffened at their words as well and it was with a fixed smile that she watched them, her hands unmoving on the table. Once normal chatter had broken out around the hall, Loki leaned over so that his mouth was right by her ear.

"Tell me, wife, did that song upset you? The color seems to have left your pretty cheeks."

She could hear the smile on his lips even though her eyes remained darting around the hall at where those who were now her subjects all sat rejoicing, refusing to meet his gaze. "It was a clever song," she said evenly. Loki laughed and leaned back into his chair, watching her with a sharpness that flustered Svalinn.

"Now your cheeks burn crimson, Queen Svalinn." The words sent a jolt of shock through her core, made worse when he leaned towards her to whisper in her ear with such closeness that his breath stirred her hair. "I wonder if it is from embarrassment or the yearning for the lyrics to be fulfilled."

Forcing herself to become more courageous than she was, Svalinn turned her head so that she was facing her husband's impish grin. "Do you not like that your wife is virtuous enough to blush at risqué lyrics?"

"I'm not sure that I like anything about you, to be honest," he said cruelly as he turned his attention back to the crowd assembled before them, and it was because of this preoccupation that he did not see the stung expression that flit across Svalinn's face. She lowered her eyes and prayed that the night would end, followed almost immediately by terror when she remembered what was going to happen once it did so.

As if reading her thoughts, Loki stood up and the crowd immediately quieted, gazing up at him. He grinned at them all, though there was no warmth to what was more a leer than a true smile. "I would like to thank you all for coming to the wedding of my beautiful wife and me but, as you might well guess, it is her company I would prefer now to your own."

There was much hearty laughter to this, followed by more cheering and saluting with mugs of beer. She allowed her mind to wander, not wanting to hear anymore of her husband's speech. Only when she felt the Queen rise on her left did Svalinn return to the present and glance around. Loki had left his chair and was disappearing out of a side door, and it was the Queen and her maids who were surrounding her now.

"Come on, Princess," Petra whispered, forgetting that she was now a Queen and gripping Svalinn tightly around her upper arm. "It's time."

Svalinn stumbled as one condemned out the back entrance to the dining hall and was soon being led along candle-lit stairs of white marble that spiraled upwards a few floors before finally opening to an ornate landing. She barely noticed any of it, her thoughts immediately rushing to the darkest recesses of her imagination as she attempted to think of what was about to take place, but even in her deepest fantasies nothing came close to the intimidation she felt for her new husband and his unkind treatment of her. Her heart began to pound unsteadily in her chest and her breathing escalated, her face burning.

The Queen stopped outside of an ornately wrought wooden door and took both of Svalinn's hands in her own before kissing her on each cheek. "Do not be afraid," she whispered in her ear so that the others could not hear. "He will be coming to you shortly and then the worst will be over." The Queen opened the door and motioned for Svalinn to enter, who did so without being aware of her legs moving. Then the doors were shut behind her and she jumped, staring back at them in panic.

She knew where she was even if no one had told her specifically where she was being led. Of course the first room she stayed in was but a temporary one, and she must now be within the royal bedchamber itself for the wedding night. If she had not been so overcome with anxiety she might have taken the time to appreciate the sheer size of the chambers and all of the luxurious within it, most notably what looked to be a sitting room that led off to the left behind a partially opened door. Her curiosity momentarily outweighing her nerves, she walked on tip toe towards the door and peered inside at a room that was full of books and held an elegantly carved writing desk. A window took up half of the wall and she saw an astonishing view of nothing but stars twinkling against the inky sky and the rainbow bridge glowing overtop of the ocean. The sight was so beautiful that she felt her fear diminish slightly, one hand reaching up to touch her throat in emotion.

"Do you like it?" a voice murmured behind her. Svalinn jumped, whirling around to face the King who was standing directly before her, a devilish grin on his face.

"I…" was all she could find to say. He turned and walked back into the bedroom, watching her over his shoulder as he began to strip off his armor. Svalinn had been so caught up in her own thoughts all day long that she had not truly stopped to admire how striking her new husband looked. For the ceremony he had donned black leather underneath gold plated armor, along with his elaborate, horned helmet. He carelessly tossed them onto the small sofa near the sitting room, his gaze never leaving her face as, without meaning to, her eyes fastened on him slowly removing his coverings.

"So tell me, Svalinn of Alfheim," he began in a deep voice that struck a chord deep in the pit of her stomach, "how you can blush at the thought of limping after your wedding night, but have no qualms about watching your husband undress?"

Svalinn's mouth opened but no sound came out as she gaped at him, thunderstruck. She hadn't even been consciously aware of watching her husband's hands removing his clothing and, realizing what she must have implied by doing so, immediately dropped her gaze. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was still dressed in her wedding gown and, that it was going to have to be removed at some point in the evening, sent a shiver down her spine.

"You look very handsome," was all she could think to say. He paused half-way through unfastening his leather chest piece and laughed quietly, smiling at her with an undeniable trace of scorn.

"Child, you know nothing of seduction, do you?"

"I'm not a child," she bristled, though she was truly more offended by his chastisement than his jest about her age.

"Are you not?" Loki smirked as he approached, pulling off the leather top and tossing it to the ground so that he was left in nothing but his black pants and boots as he strode towards her. Without all of the armor he seemed less frightening, slighter in build, though her eyes still refused to stay focused on his bare chest for any length of time. "Prove it then. Tell me, how would you pleasure a man?"

_We are not having this conversation_, Svalinn thought desperately as he came to stand directly in front of her, his shoulders parallel with her eyes and making it so that she had no choice but to look upon him. "Knowledge of that sort does not define one as a child or adult," she mumbled to his collar bone.

"Ah, but you are wrong there, young wife." He slowly circled her so that he was directly behind her and his hands gripped the ribbon lacing up the back of her gown. His knuckles brushed against the bare skin of her back and she shivered against his hands. If he noticed, he said nothing. "Knowledge in general is all that defines one as child or adult. Age is nothing unless you have wisdom," he whispered in her ear, unfastening the last of the ribbon and gripping the sleeves with his fingertips. He slid the fabric down her shoulders with deliberate slowness, staring down her neck as more and more of Svalinn's body became exposed to the candle light. The chemise she wore was nearly see-through and aside from the sheer fabric, her only other remnant of modesty came from the small, white panties of silk that matched her wedding dress. Soon the gown was pooled on the floor at Svalinn's feet and her heart rate climbed; she was only vaguely aware that fear was having little to do with the burning taking place inside herself. His hands ran down her bare shoulders, tracing his fingers along her skin until he reached her wrists, which he abruptly gripped and used to shove her against the wall with her arms pinned over her head.

Svalinn cried out more from surprise than pain but she didn't struggle in his grasp, even as his fingers began to cut off the circulation to her hands and they throbbed painfully. He loosened one hand and traced his fingers lightly over her lips and down her neck, finally coming to her now-heaving breasts. He looked up into her eyes and, despite her terror, she found herself too entranced to look away as he ran a single finger across the light fabric covering her nipple. The feel of his touch sent little arcs of lightning shooting into her belly and she trembled under his grip, writhing slightly against the wall. He smirked at her as she squirmed, the sudden, spreading heat in her thighs becoming exquisitely uncomfortable.

"So wife, should I be gentle or rough with you tonight?" The question shocked her so thoroughly that Svalinn found she had no answer ready for him. She merely gaped up into his face, alarmed, as he trailed his hand down her front to her thighs, letting his fingers search beneath the hem of her chemise and trace a path along the sensitive flesh between her upper legs. Svalinn closed her eyes and whimpered reflexively when his fingers pressed lightly against her panties, stroking gently with the tips of his fingers until he pulled them away again, smirking against her ear. "Already ripe for the plucking, I see."

He lifted Svalinn bodily from the wall and pushed her onto the bed; she scurried hurriedly backwards so that she was half-propped against the headboard, trembling. She could not escape him, though, and he was immediately hovering over her with his hands on either side of her head, his eyes boring into hers. They remained like this for a few seconds, with neither moving as they contemplated the other. Then his hands lashed out and ripped the chemise in two, tossing the remnants to the ground. Svalinn cried out in shock and moved to cover herself but Loki stopped her forcibly with his hands.

"You're mine to do with as I please, wife, and what pleases me is to watch as I defile you." He gripped the sides of her panties and ripped them off as effortlessly as he had her chemise, and Svalinn swallowed a cry when she found herself lying completely exposed before him, his eyes drinking in every feature she had to offer. Without warning his index and middle fingers were prodding at her opening, running down her in strokes that sent bolts of pleasure throughout her body. Then he pushed them inside of her.

An unbearable agony racked Svalinn and her thighs gripped tightly at Loki's hand to try and quell the pain but still he did not cease; instead he thrust them farther into her and with more momentum so that soon she was crying out in her torment. She flipped onto her side as she writhed and just when she thought it would never end he pulled his fingers out of her and gripped her hips, rolling her over so that she was once more on her back. She felt something warm and moist on her hip where his hand was and glanced down at it—she could see her own blood smeared on his fingers and leaving streaks on her skin.

She had played with herself on occasion while growing up, more out of curiosity than from lust. Her own hands were small and, even on the rare night alone when she had dared to explore inside of herself with her pointer finger, she had not delved very deep, nor done much damage to her treasured virginity. The pain had been minor, tender like a bruise and nothing at all compared to this man's hands that were twice as big as her own. Where his fingers had torn a path, Svalinn felt raw and burning.

He was impatient now, Svalinn could tell as he hurriedly unfastened the top of his pants. She felt strangely detached from the situation as her eyes found the smear on her right hip of her own, virginal blood. She could only watch as he extricated himself from his pants and realized with dawning horror what she was about to endure.

His cock, the word that her whispering servant girls had whispered of before bursting into their fits of giggles, was enormous. Much thicker than his two combined fingers and by far worse than anything she could ever have imagined. When Loki saw Svalinn's preoccupation he grinned viciously down at her, grabbing her knees and spreading them wide so that he could yank her towards him, her bare backside pressed against his thighs. He took himself in one hand and ran the tip of his cock against the length of her, pressing gently into her and eliciting a moan of mingled pain and suppressed longing from her before removing himself again. He was tormenting her and reveling in it.

"You never answered my question, wife. Should I make you bleed or cum?"

Another word she had learned from her servant girls, _cum_—an act of which she had no real grasp because they had never managed to explain to her what exactly the word meant. Svalinn looked up at her husband and felt her body relax into the bed as an odd contentment stole over her when she realized he was truly giving her the option to fight back, though whether she did or not she knew he would overpower her. She made her choice. "Do as you will."

His face darkened and she realized that, whatever he had expected her to say, it wasn't those words. He gripped her bloodied hip with one hand and his cock with the other then, in a brief moment of instinctual foreshadowing, Svalinn knew what was going to happen a split second before it did so. When he pushed himself inside of her Svalinn screamed aloud and flailed underneath him, a reaction which finally did bring the smile back to his face.

"You said to do as I will," he muttered as he thrust into her, leaving Svalinn grasping at the sheets and pillows in her desperation to cling to anything aside from the pain of being cleft in two that came each time he withdrew and pushed himself into her again. She could not see past the agony until she told herself to take deep, steadying breaths. Following the impulse she breathed in and out slowly until the room swam back into focus and she could see her husband above her, his nails dug into her hips as he slid in and out of her.

"It hurts," she admitted in gasps and almost immediately he lowered himself so that his chest was pressed against hers and her knees were trapped under his arms, forcing them so wide that her thigh muscles protested. When he plunged into her again he reached such an angle that Svalinn was screaming in earnest, all thoughts of calming breaths forgotten. She could feel each time his cock burrowed into her, could ascertain when he reached a new depth that brought another searing pain spreading inside of her. She both feared the pain would never end and half-wished that it didn't.

After a few minutes she found herself able to focus on other things, details she had not been able to notice through her original haze of pain. His hair hung in curtains around their faces, shielding the rest of the room from view and leaving her free to stare into his eyes. He seemed startled when he realized she wasn't merely looking at him but meeting his gaze with a faint awe. Almost as if in retaliation he thrust particularly hard into Svalinn and she groaned, but this time there was something else underlying the sound. She felt a thrill when she became aware of his chest rubbing against her breasts every time he thrust, and felt her nipples hardened against his skin at the thought, making them even more sensitive to his movement. When he moved to thrust into her again she tilted her hips without thinking and he plunged so deep that she was almost blinded by the pain, gripping tightly onto his shoulders in a desperate attempt to lessen the ache but at the same time relishing in it.

Curiosity began to well inside of Svalinn and she lifted her head slightly, her nose brushing against his lips as she struggled to move his hair out of the way. "What are you doing?" he asked in breathless surprise.

"I want to see," she moaned, uncertain where the words had come from but convinced in their sincerity the moment they had left her lips. Loki hesitated for a second before readjusting himself so that he was up on his knees again and holding Svalinn's hips steady, and she gazed down at their joined bodies in mute wonder. She could see his thickness as he half-pulled out of her and every time found herself shocked that something so large in comparison to herself could fit inside of her again at all. Now that she paid attention to her body she realized that the continuous pain had subsided and that she was reveling in the paroxysms of pleasure his cock was giving her; she giggled almost deliriously as the word reverberated loosely around her mind.

"What could you possibly be laughing at?" Loki said through gritted teeth as he pushed himself so hard into her that she could feel his hips pushing into hers. This wiped the laughter off of her face, replaced instead by an instinctual arcing of her back as she writhed against him, whimpering.

"I'm thinking about your cock," she laughed feverishly as the word came spilling out of her and his eyes widened in shock, "and how good it feels." His expression changed entirely and with an animalistic growl he fell back on top of her, gripping her hands and holding them above her head so that she couldn't move one way or the other. She gasped in his ear and struggled, which frenzied Loki so that he was thrusting into her without mercy and every sound escaping Svalinn's open mouth were cries of pain.

"How do you know such words if you're as innocent as you claim, wife?" he hissed in Svalinn's ear, his breath tickling her so that she shuddered and felt herself reflexively squeeze his shaft with her muscles, evoking a groan of pleasure from deep in his throat.

"My maids back home told me stories," she whispered, every other word perforated with a cry as he pummeled into her. "Even Princesses get curious," she added baldly, shocking even herself.

"Do they," he replied tonelessly, and Svalinn could sense an anger within him that seemed disconnected from the bliss she herself was beginning to feel. There was an ache beginning to churn in her core, not far off from where her husband sought his own pleasure, and beginning to seep throughout her entire body. She clutched first at the sheets but, finding no solace there, gripped instead onto his shoulders and lost herself in her own cries, digging her nails selfishly into his flesh. Loki moaned and she could feel his movements becoming frenzied and erratic before, rather suddenly, he shuddered in her arms, his thrusts slowing until he finally became still, frozen in place with Svalinn's arms still gripped tightly underneath his.

Then the moment was lost and he had rolled away from her to the other side of the bed, facing in the opposite direction as the candles blew out all at once. He removed his pants and boots, then pulled himself under the covers and lay still. He made not a sound or even acknowledgement towards Svalinn, who remained on her back, panting slightly as her wound up body remained tense and feeling strangely empty and deprived of an resolution she could not quite place, but yearned for nonetheless. She wondered if she now had an inkling of what that forbidden word, cum, might mean. Her breathing slowly returning to normal, she sat up in bed and then paused, hand mid-air, when Loki whipped his head around to watch her out of the corner of his eye.

"Sorry," she muttered as she lifted the covers so that she could snuggle down underneath them as well. His head remained facing her over his shoulder and he looked as if he was about to say something that he couldn't quite bring himself to. "What's wrong?" she asked, rolling over to face him.

"You're staying?"

The question startled Svalinn and she blinked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I assumed you would go back to your bedchamber."

"Oh…" Svalinn said, her heart falling into her stomach like a ball of lead. "Would you prefer that I leave?"

"Doesn't matter either way," he muttered gruffly, turning back to face the other way. Svalinn remained watching him, lost in thought as she gazed dreamily at his back. She couldn't quite explain why but she felt oddly comfortable lying there with him now, despite the awkwardness that hung in the air. She felt peculiarly close to this man who she still barely knew and yet who had known her in a way that no one else ever had or would. That made her stomach flutter and, suddenly aching for closeness, she inched towards him as surreptitiously as she could.

"What's wrong?" he asked awkwardly, tilting his head back towards her so that she could again see his profile. Svalinn flushed, embarrassed that he had noticed her attempts to move nearer.

"Nothing," she murmured. "I'm just… cold," she invented wildly.

"Cold," he repeated, rolling onto his back so that he could look over at her. "After sex you are cold," he said with the merest hint of amusement and the shadow of a grin on his lips.

"Yes," she repeated with a trace of defiance and made rather a show of pulling the blankets up to her chin, watching him. He stared back, seeming to fight an internal struggle for a few, long minutes before he lifted one arm so that it was resting atop her pillow.

"Well get closer, then. I don't want the realms thinking I let my wife freeze to death" he said carelessly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. She immediately complied and cuddled up to his side, daring to drape one arm across his chest. He seemed tense with Svalinn so close, but she herself felt a great contentment from the intimacy of their position. Though Loki remained rigid beneath her, Svalinn still found herself drifting off into drowsy contentment. Her eyes fluttered shut but she immediately snapped them back open, not wanting to fall asleep so soon. So many questions swirled around in her mind that she was surprised when he was the first to break the silence. "Why did you not fight back?"

Svalinn angled herself so that her chin was resting on his chest, but his gaze remained directed away from her. She frowned, contemplating his question. "Why would I? You're my husband."

"You don't know or have reason to trust me. I frighten you, and don't say that it's not true because I could see it on you the moment you arrived at breakfast this morning. Yet you didn't cry or attempt to stop me."

"You're my husband," she repeated, feeling a bit foolish that perhaps she was not behaving as a bride should. "And it's not like you were hurting me—"

Loki scoffed, jostling Svalinn on his chest as his laughter shook him. "You were screaming, Svalinn." She noted the use of her given name alone, without a mocking title to go along with it.

"Well… yes. But I was a virgin, as I'm sure you noticed. Of course it was going to hurt." She frowned up at Loki but he still was refusing to meet her gaze, so she tentatively reached up a hand to touch his cheek and turn his face towards hers. To her surprise, he allowed her the motion and met her gaze for the first time since their coupling. There was pain in his eyes of a caliber that she could not even begin to comprehend, and Svalinn's heart softened at the sight of his turmoil. "You weren't cruel to me."

"I'm a cruel man, Svalinn. You should not make me out to be better than I am."

"What, are you referring to the stories people tell of your sorcery and murders?" Loki flinched but Svalinn did not stop talking, drawing strength from his sudden vulnerability. "I don't know that man well yet, the King. He does what must be done and I will not judge him for his past, any more than I'd expect to be judged for my own. All I know is that as a man, tonight you have made up for any cruelty earlier today by talking civilly to me now."

Loki maintained her gaze and he reached a hand out to push a stray, blonde lock behind her ear. "You're braver than I'd have thought possible," he finally murmured.

"I'm many things people wouldn't think. Brave must just be one of them; Your Majesty," she added quickly, remembering herself.

"Call me Loki," he yawned, stretching slightly and readjusting Svalinn so that she was nestled against the crook of his arm rather than against his chest. "And we really should go to bed. Tomorrow we begin the journey across the realms."

Svalinn had forgotten about the customary visit of each realm after a royal marriage, and quieted herself so that they might both begin the process of falling into sleep. Soon enough she heard the deep, steady breathing of her husband beneath her and pressed her face into his sleeping shoulder, enjoying the faint warmth of his skin and the natural scent of him.

She did not know what love was, she thought drowsily, but she hoped that maybe she could come to love this new husband of hers. What comforted her most, she realized as he unconsciously pulled her closer to him in his sleep, was that with time, she thought Loki might even come to love her back.


End file.
